


Four More Words

by suitesamba



Series: Four Words [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Severus share injuries, beds in the infirmary and bodily fluids in this sequel to “Four Words.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four More Words

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Use of ancient bedpan, inadvertent voyeurism, use of Severus' sexy voice to stimulate and arouse, non-graphic injuries
> 
> A/N: Series inspired by the Facebook post question: _"We wake up in jail together. What's the first thing you say to me--use exactly four words"_ Look for four words from Minerva, Harry and Poppy as well in this one.
> 
> Beta'd by the phenomenal abrae

“This is not funny.”

Harry, his head, chin and cheek bandaged so tightly that he could hardly move his mouth, grunted. He hoped that Severus understood the grunt to be another apology. 

Severus turned his head sideways and stared at the prone form of the man in the hospital cot beside him. 

“Stop looking so pathetic. At least you can get out of bed if you’d like.” 

“Mmph,” said Harry, letting out a muffled, exasperated sigh. He didn’t need to add that while capable of getting out of bed, he had no desire to do so. 

Severus let out a sigh of his own, then picked up a little silver bell sitting on the bedside table and began ringing it energetically. 

“Schtoph, pleeeshh!” moaned Harry, closing his eyes against the clanging. 

Poppy Pomfrey appeared from her office at the back of the infirmary and hurried toward them, a disapproving look already on her face. She yanked the bell out of Severus’ hands and put it in her apron pocket. 

“You have used that bell one too many times, Severus Snape!” she exclaimed. She glanced over at Harry and smiled as his face showed his gratitude. “Harry has a hairline crack on his skull, whiplash and a concussion for Merlin’s sake. He wouldn’t even be awake yet if it weren’t for your infernal ringing!” 

“It’s a _call_ bell,” replied Severus. “You told me to use it if I needed anything, and I need you to remove this immobility spell at once. I have need of the facilities.” 

The sound that came from Harry’s bed could only have been a snort. 

“No, I think a bedpan will do just fine, considering,” replied Poppy. She casually pointed her wand over her shoulder. “Accio bedpan!” A bedpan, made of tin sometime around the turn of the century—the _previous_ century—jumped off a shelf and shot through the air toward her. 

She caught the pan with one hand as it approached and smiled beatifically at Severus. 

“You are much too old for what you’ve been getting up to,” she said as she pulled up the covers, untucking them from the foot of the bed and arranging the bedpan under Severus’ immobile lower half. He tried to use his hands to push her away, but she glared him into submission. “Not to mention Quidditch! It’s a miracle your injuries were as minor as they were!” She stepped back, folded her arms across her chest and waited, tapping her foot impatiently. 

“You expect me to—to--to _urinate_ while you are standing there watching me?” he asked, incredulous, when she made no sign of leaving. 

“Urinate? You should have said so, Severus. I’d have fetched the bottle instead of the bedpan.” 

They engaged in a stare-off and Harry, head titled and eyes open just enough to see both of them, watched them through his carefully slitted eyes. In all of his experience with Severus, he’d never yet seen him lose a staring match. 

Until now. 

“Fine.” 

“You could have killed him, you know,” said Madam Pomfrey quietly as her fingers tapped with purpose on her own upper arm. “These cots are _not_ made for two persons, especially two full-grown adults. And with both of you already injured like that! Really, Headmaster, what if someone had walked in?” 

“Someone did walk in,” he groused. “Right through my wards.” 

“You cannot ward the matron out of her infirmary,” she chided. “Hogwarts will not allow it.” 

“Now you tell ush,” muttered Harry. 

Madam Pomfrey spun around to face Harry. “Your tongue will heal faster if you don’t use it, Mr. Potter,” she warned. 

“Listen to Madam Pomfrey, Harry,” warned Severus as Poppy dealt with the bedpan and arranged the covers back on Severus, tucking them in again under the mattress to make perfect hospital corners. “I have plans for that tongue when we get out of here.” 

“Shev’rus!” protested Harry, glancing at Madam Pomfrey. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Harry! I had to practically pry you two apart when that bed collapsed! Severus couldn’t even withdraw with his back thrown out like that.” 

“Madam!” Severus admonished. 

Harry managed to get his hand up in the vicinity of his face, covering it with outspread fingers. 

“And had Harry been lying on the bed with his head by the headboard instead of in that rather odd position you had him in—really, Severus!—he may not have sustained such serious injuries when the bed legs collapsed!” 

Now Severus was covering his face with his hand. 

“How long must I remain like this?” he asked. “Surely there is some other treatment for a herniated lumbar disk than complete immobility from my chest down for forty-eight hours?” 

“You should be thrilled your treatment is so easy!” exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. “By immobilizing you, the spell effectively blocks your pain, while poor Harry over here has to endure Skele-gro, and you know how painful that is, Severus.” She moved over to Harry and gently rearranged his pillows, adjusted his covers then held a cup with a straw to his mouth so he could take a drink. 

“Fank-oo,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. 

“Now, Mr. Potter. Let’s address what brought you to the hospital wing in the first place,” she said. 

“He fell off his broom,” cut in Severus. “This is far from the first Quidditch-related accident Harry has had at Hogwarts.” 

“He fell off his broom after you rammed into him on _your_ broom, Severus!” exclaimed the matron. She patted Harry’s head gently and smiled at him then turned toward Severus. “And you are far too old to be careening around on a broom . I know that your… _association_ …with Mr. Potter here makes you _feel_ younger, but the reality is that you are nearly fifty....” 

“I am forty-eight years old Poppy. Forty-eight is _not_ too old to be riding a broom.” 

“You were reckless! You were not thinking! I hope you were not trying to show off. As soon as I set Harry’s arm and dosed him with Skele-gro, I spoke with Miss Oppenhauer and Mr. Sedgwick….”

“Ten points from Ravenclaw,” muttered Severus. 

“…who witnessed the entire event. They said that Mr. Potter was engaged in some standard Quidditch acrobatic maneuvers—maneuvers he had been doing for nearly fifteen years, mind you—at one end of the pitch after the end of Slytherin’s practice and before the Ravenclaw session began. You, apparently thinking that Mr. Potter was free-falling to his death instead of entering into a Wronski feint, shot out after him on your broom and plowed into him just as he was beginning to pull out of the dive.” 

“I was injured as well,” protested Severus. “And it was an honest mistake. Mr. Potter is known to be careless and rash. How was I to know…?”

“You escaped with a handful of splinters and a bloody nose, Severus…”

“They hurt,” said Severus, examining his hand with a scowl. 

“Harry broke his arm in two places!” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head in exasperation. “And, I might add, he still had an hour left with the Skele-gro when I…when I…” She fumbled with the words, flustered, her face taking on a pink hue. “When I was alerted by the monitoring charm on Mr. Potter of a dangerously high heart rate and came in here to find…to find....” 

“To find us shagging like rabbits?” said Snape. “To find my twig and berries engaged in carnal knowledge of Mr. Potter’ delectable arse?” 

“Headmaster!” 

“Shev-rus!” 

“I am fairly certain I am having a reaction to a potion,” said Severus archly. “It has lowered my inhibitions. Words pour from my mouth and I am unable to control them.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” said Poppy. 

“Indeed not. It is a known side effect of class C pain potions. The mandrake root….”

“You aren’t fooling me, Severus Snape.” 

They glared at each other for another long moment until finally Madam Pomfrey uttered a dismissive “tsk” and headed back toward her office. 

“My bell?” asked Severus. 

“Not on your life,” she answered. 

/

Severus was awakened from a deep slumber some time later when a warm body slid carefully in bed next to him. A head settled on his shoulder and a hand splayed out over his stomach and began to trace circles on the purple hospital gown Poppy had insisted he wear. He recognized Harry by the weight of his head and by his smell, the smell of the outdoors. Even without these cues, he couldn’t think of anyone else who might purposefully slip in bed with him and caress his abdomen. 

“You should not be out of your bed. Poppy will have my head.” 

“Couldn’t shleep,” breathed Harry, sounding very much like he was about to do just that. 

“We are two in a bed again,” said Severus sagely. “If it collapses it may injure us further.” 

Harry snorted. 

Severus wrapped an arm around Harry and sighed. 

“You are right. We are unlikely to get up anything that would cause catastrophic failure of the bed’s frame in our current conditions.” 

“Waz good,” said Harry with a contented sigh, snuggling in even closer to Severus. His nose was pressed up against Severus’ chest and he breathed in deeply. 

“Good? You would say that, wouldn’t you? Considering you’d already come all over yourself from my bruising assault of your prostate alone.” His arm tightened around Harry’s shoulders and his voice took on a deeper, softer tone. “Seeing your face like that, mouth open, hand behind you grasping the bed frame. I could have fucked you forever like that, Harry, pushing inside that tight arse of yours, my hands on your hips, watching that lovely cock of yours leaking against those tight abs, bouncing with my thrusts, watching those delicious bollocks pull up, tightening, your cockhead throbbing….”

Harry was rutting up against his hip now and Severus’ hand moved down to his arse and squeezed a cheek, squeezed it again, pulling Harry against him even harder. 

He was incredibly aroused. More aroused than he’d ever been without an erection. Indeed, the immobilization spell seemed to have taken away the ability to get hard but not the curling desire itself. 

His moved his arm from around Harry and worked it in between them, under Harry’s own hospital gown and onto the cock that was trying to bore into his hip. 

“Every time I thrust, you pushed back, you wanton, fuckable, feast. Your arse fucked _me_. How could you expect me to be mindful of your injuries with your irresistible siren call? When you squeezed your knees around my neck, dug your heels into my flesh, grunted out the syllables of my name…my brain was gone, Harry, taken over by the urge—no, the _need_ —to have you, to take you, to thrust in and in and in and _in_. Your arse should be one of the seven deadly sins, your cock one of the seven wonders of the world…” He stroked the cock in question, channeling his insatiable arousal into the hand working it, into the long fingers curling around the coveted shaft. 

“Yeshhh,” breathed Harry, biting into Severus’ shoulder as his cock was squeezed, worked, pulled, as his bollocks were caressed and rolled. He arched then came with a muffled grunt only minutes later, then relaxed with a boneless sigh against Severus’ side. 

“Sleep,” said Severus, closing his own eyes and trying to will away the persistent arousal. Albus Dumbledore naked in a tutu. Horace Slughorn in stockings and garters. Hagrid in a corset. 

Yes. That did it. 

When Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall came into the hospital wing an hour later to check up on the Headmaster and advise him that a photograph of his heroic rescue of Professor Potter had been leaked to _The Daily Prophet_ , she found him asleep, flat on his back, with Professor Potter curled up next to him. She stood at the foot of the bed a long minute, staring at the sleeping men. 

“Albus would be pleased,” she murmured, a smile touching her usually pursed lips, softening her worn, lined face. 

Then, taking out her wand, she carefully levitated Harry back to his own bed and pulled the coverlet up to his still-bandaged chin. She turned back to Severus, frowned, did a quick and thorough Scourgify on the wet spot on his hip, and covered him as well. 

“Saving your arses again, boys,” she said to no one in particular as she headed toward the infirmary door. And, recalling her visit to the Muggle jail to bail out the Headmaster and the Defense Professor three weeks before, she added: “At least this time it didn’t cost me two hundred galleons.” 

“I pai’ choo back,” said Harry sleepily from his bed. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said as she left the room. 

“G’nite.” 

He closed his eyes and sleep took him away. 

_Fin_


End file.
